


Illuminate

by Lizzen



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Changing POV, Dark Rey (Star Wars), F/M, Kidnapping, Mirror Universe, Organized Crime, Undercover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-30
Updated: 2018-09-30
Packaged: 2019-07-16 02:52:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 19,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16076840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lizzen/pseuds/Lizzen
Summary: There’s a rip in the galaxy opening up to a parallel universe much darker than its mirror, and a familiar face emerges with an insidious agenda. Rey and Kylo meet again to challenge the oncoming darkness and find a strength together against all odds. (Post-TLJ)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 2018 Reylo Fanfiction Anthology: Two Solitudes That Meet  
> Celestial Body: Nar Shaddaa, the “Smuggler’s Moon”

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**ONE**

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_“Nar Shaddaa. This is a place of secrets--mysteries as deep as space itself.”_

 

 

It’s sudden when it happens. The wind whistling through the dark room is the only warning sign. A ripple in the air, and a foot emerges from it. Steps onto the dusty floor. There’s a leg, and then the rest of her appears, seemingly out of nowhere. Human, medium height, dark hair; leather clad. She breathes in slowly, sucking in the air of a forgotten laboratory in the depths of Nar Shaddaa. Her nose wrinkles at the smell, decaying chemicals and old rat droppings, but she smiles all the same.

“Yes,” she says. And her head tilts to the side. “This will do.”

 

|||||||

 

“--you must be so proud of your son.” The words leave Kolle’s mouth and they cast quite a shadow over the room.

Leia is no novice at this game. “Supreme Leader of the galaxy,” she replies, neatly. “At his age. Impressive.” Though her tea is tepid by now, she still takes a sip of it before: “Most impressive.”

Kolle is a high level operative for Black Sun, so she’s no novice either. She smiles and leans back in her chair. “This has been pleasant, General, but we are curious what you want from us. It could be anything, really. A line of credit, soldiers for hire, basic supplies, ships--”

“Let me stop you there,” Leia says, raising a hand. “We want ships. And we can pay for them.”

The woman’s eyebrow raises. “Ah,” she says. “Here’s the thing. We don’t need your money.”

Leia stares evenly at her before: “Of course, I’ve heard Black Sun is--”

“--but we do want something from you,” Kolle interrupts. “And we’d be happy to provide you with ships as a thank you, as a statement of our highest esteem for your singular talent in, shall we say, shaking up the galaxy.” She chuckles. “Business is always good when you’re winning.”

“What do you want?” Leia opens her mind to the Force. It’s easier now that she’s been training with Rey, easier to directly pick up on intent with a certain clarity. She breathes in, searching and-- and all she feels is _wrong_. Something is wrong. Terribly wrong.

“We want to meet the girl, your champion,” she says, blithe as can be. “Just an hour or two, like this. Over tea. Or something stronger if she favors such things.”

“You want to meet Rey,” Leia says quietly. And with a wry tone: “Jedi don’t recruit easily.”

It’s like the sound of tinkling bells when Kolle laughs. Leia considers the cognitive dissonance; a glorified drug lord with such a laugh, such a sweet face.

“No agenda, General. We just want to meet her.”

Something in the room has changed; something hidden, something dark. Leia can sense an uptick in Kolle’s heartbeat. “As a matter of fact, we don’t need your ships,” Leia says and rises to her feet. “Not at that cost.”

“It’s a simple meeting we request,” Kolle says, almost stern. “We--”

“In the galaxy, there are two persons who are more powerful than either of us can possibly comprehend. You wouldn’t dare ask for an audience with one of them. Why would you dare ask for--”

“Leia,” Kolle shoots back, uncomfortably familiar. “It’s only--”

“No,” Leia says. “Rey is perhaps the most dangerous person you’d ever meet, so, consider this a favor to you.”

*  
“You’re dead, Finn,” Rey says, as serious as she can, considering her current state. She lifts her hand in the air, fingers outstretched. “I’m going to kill you and then I’m going to space you and then I’m going to kill you again.”

Poe chuckles and hands her the next shot. “You’ve got three to go.”

She glares at Finn and his shit-eating grin riles her further. But the rules of the game are the rules of the game and she lost. Three more shots of this horrible alcohol to go. Her head is spinning, her fist is clenched; and yet. What a smile on her face.

It’s been good, out here in the black. A common purpose amongst allies has been inspiring, motivating her to be better. Scavenger one day, rebel scum the next; a transition that has been easier than expected. She pilots the _Falcon_ , she works as a mechanic, she trains with the General, she fights her way through the ancient Jedi texts for illumination. There’s a new lightsaber attached to her belt, and she hasn’t felt a dull silence in her ears followed by--

Well, she hasn’t seen _him_ since Crait.

They’ve starved and they’ve scavenged and they’ve fought, and they’ve begged; and it’s been the best year of Rey’s life.

*  
Regret is the morning’s punishment for last night’s revels as the General visits the mess hall with a particular look on her face and, while hungover as hell, Rey knows it’s a mission.

*  
“Buckle up, people,” Jessika says from the pilot chair in their freshly “borrowed” leisure cruiser. “With this storm, we’re going to have a rough landing.”

“Not if I can help it,” Rey says, her hands firm against the co-pilot controls. She can hear Finn scrambling for the seat belt though.

Rose pipes up. “If we die here, I’m blaming Poe for the game last night.”

Poe groans in the most over-dramatic fashion. “I’m innocent, you all just have bad luck.”

“Cut the chatter,” Jessika says as they descend and the ship rocks violently. Rey breathes in before she rights it and uses a bit of the Force to keep the ship steady. There’s a chuckle that rises out of Jessika as she realizes what happened. “Cheater,” Jessika says.

Rey just smiles and heads through the storm to the landing bay.

*  
Leaving Jessika with the ship, the four of them head towards their mark’s position-- an elegant bar in midtown. Rey’s fully masked in some slightly used Mandalorian armor; the perfect bodyguard. Rose is dressed up to look like the Money; white linens and dark glasses. Poe and Finn-- well. Capes, silks, eyeliner, leather boots; dressed in high Corellian fashion as disgustingly wealthy arms dealers looking to turn a profit.

They’ve each tried different roles in the past year on various missions, but this configuration of aliases has shown the most success. She knows from experience how terrible she is at playacting the boss, the Money, or anything complex. Anything _not her_. Playing the muscle and being constantly vigilant is her sweet spot.

At the bottom of the gangplank, Poe steals a kiss from Finn and throws a wink at Rey after. She shakes her head. There is a certain mischief in being undercover.

It’s nice, she thinks, this fledgling _something_ between her two friends. Nice to trust someone utterly and also feel connected with them enough to--

She stops the thought. She felt a connection like that once before and look where it led.

*  
Their mark is an ex-queensguard from Naboo who’s obviously done well in the world of networking; he has connections to the Hutts, the Nikto, Crimson Dawn, and perhaps, if rumors are true, the First Order. Their mark is also very impressive at taking his liquor and Poe, bless him, attempts to keep up.

Rose watches without an expression on her face until Rey senses the mark’s weakening, an opening to dig deep. She touches Rose’s shoulder and Rose clears her throat.

“We’re ready to make a deal with the Grand Moffs. Where is the First Order’s new base of operations? We want to meet with them.” Rose’s tone severe.

The mark blinks. Takes a long drink. “My new friends, I can help you, of course, but if you want to make a deal in this galaxy, talk to Black Sun. They’re flush with cash. Easy money and no red tape, if that’s your pleasure.”

Finn lies: “So we’ve heard.”

Rey knows of Black Sun, of course. How could she not? Their dark tendrils reached even Jakku. The crime syndicate has been a blight on the galaxy for hundreds of years; bigger and bolder than any of the competition.

“There’s spice being moved like you’ve _never seen_ before. Enormous quantities. Their mines must be sucked dry,” the mark says.

“Where’s the product moving?” Finn asks.

“Nar Shaddaa--”

“--Of course.”

Poe pipes up, a little slurred. “Where’s it going? We haven’t heard of a spike in secondary trade.”

The mark shrugs. “Not my problem.”

“Who’s the buyer?” Rose asks.

“Someone, my beauty; someone with credits.”

Rose glares and Finn glares and Poe giggles.

The mark has a glazed over look now. “I’ve only seen her once.”

“Her?”

“Force user too. Impressive with it. She might give the Supreme Leader a run for his money.”

This is off-script, this is off-mission, but something dark inside of Rey drives her to take her helmet off and reach out her hand for him, feeling through the Force for everything he knows. She opens her mouth to speak but she can see his eyes widen and his fear radiate through the Force. And it’s not just because he’s surprised.

“Commander,” he whispers. “I didn’t know you were--”

Rey tilts her head to the side. It _is_ her military rank, but--

“I am at your service,” he says and she can sense that he will tell her anything she wants to know.

She breathes in: something is wrong here. Something is so wrong. But a mission is a mission. “Tell me the location of the First Order’s base.”

“It’s in the Orca system, space station near the second planet,” he says as easy as if he were ordering another cocktail. “Now, would you be interested in speaking to my boss about trade? We are eager to serve you.”

Blinking, Rey takes it in. That was invaluable information traded for nothing. And she can’t fathom why he’d be offering her service. If there’s rumors about her in the galaxy, it’s not because-- “What could you possibly offer?” she attempts.

“Ships!” he squeals. “We can offer you ships, Commander.”

Poe raises a hand and, in looking at him, Rey realizes how sober he is. “The Commander doesn’t make impromptu decisions, friend. Why don’t we come back tomorrow for a proper conversation?”

“But--” is the chorus from the mark and Rey.

“Tomorrow,” Finn adds, and shows that he’s paid the bill.

At a look from Poe, Rey remembers herself and puts her helmet back on.

The mark lurches forward, grabs her gloved hand. Lays on a kiss to its metal and leathers. “Doing business with you will be my honor.”

She pulls her hand away, troubled.

*  
Later, as they march to the ship with Finn and Rose in front, Poe leans in. “You want answers, I know, but we’re leaving. Mission accomplished.” He pauses before: “Did you bewitch him through the Force, what was that?”

She shakes her head. “I don’t know. But perhaps the General can shed light on this?”

“You’re right,” Poe says, confident. “Leia always knows best.”

*  
Leia is deep in the depths of her research when Connix buzzes in a call. “General,” she says, “It’s Kyrtoga the Hutt, for you, ma’am.”

It’s her first direct call from the Hutts, and from the Hutt patriarch, surely, and so she straightens her collar and her hair before pressing the button, allowing the holo to begin.

A Hutt comes into full view through hologram projection and he immediately crows: “Huttslayer!” As if it’s some great title.

She doesn’t flinch; she has no regret in killing Jabba, but it’s a colorful way to begin a conversation. “Your excellency,” she says. “What an honor.”

“The honor is mine,” he says, chuckling. “Now, tell me, is your precious champion present? We’d like to meet her.”

The breath seems to draw out of her, slow and sure. Not many Hutts cut to the chase, and this-- this is -- She attempts an answer. “The Jedi Rey is not available for an audience, Kyrtoga. I told this to--”

“You see,” he interrupts. “There is a girl who looks exactly like your champion, and she’s draining the galaxy, it seems, of spice through a relationship with Black Sun. Are you responsible for this, Huttslayer? Because this is not your general way of doing business. We know you well enough now to consider you above the spice trade.”

This information all clicks with the research she’s been working on, but there’s more to absorb--

“You see, she won’t do business with us. Calls us filthy gangsters.” He chuckles. “We’d like our piece. Black Sun isn’t the only organization with their fingers in spice, you know. We invented this business.”

“It’s not my girl,” Leia says, realizing she might be a step closer to the truth. “Do you have an image of this spice trader?”

“Oh, Huttslayer, she’s quite the beauty,” the Hutt says and he presents a holo of a woman, from boots to brown hair in three buns. Black leather clad, arms bare. With Rey’s face, looking imperious.

And Leia opens her mouth--

*  
In his quarters on the _Executor_ , he watches the conversation with an incredulous surprise, the holo tablet in his hands.

“--quite the beauty,” the Hutt is saying and he presents a holo of a woman, from boots to brown hair in three buns. Black leather clad, arms bare. With Rey’s face, looking imperious.

And Kylo Ren opens his mouth and the word “ _what_ ” comes out as the tablet falls from his hands, crashing violently to the floor.


	2. Chapter 2

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**TWO**

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It’s his first lead on her in a year. The holo was sent to his attention from an unknown source; this strange conversation meant to pique his interest. Kylo has watched it several times, focusing in on the words rather than on his mother’s--

It’s all very suspect, but now there are clothes stuffed in bags, credit lines confirmed, and tech attached to his person. Vague messages left for Hux and the Grand Moffs, and he’s dismissed his attendants.

It’s done, he’s doing this.

*  
He takes a small unmarked ship from one of their suppliers-- who are they to refuse him?-- and he sets the course. Settles in for a short trip to the Outer Rim.

Kylo Ren breathes in through his nose and considers his options and none of them are to his liking.

He thinks: She’s on a mission, undercover--  
He thinks: She’s been abducted and forced into this--  
He thinks: She’s possessed by some _entity_ \--

He thinks: There just _can’t_ be _two_ of her. That’s impossible.

Something shifts in his heart, something buried and deep, and he sucks in a breath. The problem with thinking about Rey is that it’s a slippery slope into an uncomfortable and deeply familiar place. To think about Rey means an unnecessary weakness. A siren call that spirals into danger. It’s wrong and it’s not what he wants.

But the moment the thought of her enters his head, it’s all over. A craving sets in; he smells her in the air, he feels the touch of her fingers against his--

His hand becomes a fist. No, he thinks. No.

He’s made a promise to destroy her, the promise still lingers in the air on Crait. He’s made a promise and he’s going to keep it.

*  
His father took him to Nar Shaddaa once, showed him a few things. Met a few people who ruffled his hair. Told tall tales. Offered him strong liquor with broad smiles. The whole place stunk and he hated it. Hated the smuggler’s life and its lack of truth, honor.

But his father took him and the feel of his hand on his shoulder was-- and it meant--

Kylo shakes his head, shakes away the treacherous sweetness of memory and focuses in on what is useful. For security, his father used the alias “Beckett Starfighter”; a little reductive, but serviceable. And for Black Sun contacts, his father visited a high end joint called the Betsy.

As he breathes in the air and straightens his vest, he notes that the bar is nicer than he remembers; far nicer. There’s more money in the place now. Wartime always makes for deeper pockets.

He takes a back table, nurses a drink, and focuses in on conversations across the place through the Force for any hint of her. A lot is said about local politics and galaxy-wide celebrities. A lot is said about how quiet the First Order has been of late. A lot is said about spice moving fast, faster than ever. Nothing about the girl, nothing about--

“Ta,” a man says at the door in heavily accented Basic. “That bird will have my head if I’m late. Lop it right off with that damn light sword she has.”

It’s noisy, his chair skidding across the floor as Kylo stands. No one pays attention. Kylo throws credits down on the table and takes three marching steps after the man before he remembers himself. Steadies, and walks like his father taught him. Casual.

He shadows the man through a series of streets and gets an opportunity when the man ducks into an alley. The Force is his ally as he reaches out and drags the man towards him, slamming him against a wall and glaring something fierce. His hand becomes a fist before he lowers it to the side. The man seems very unfazed, and looks at him with an even stare. He opens his mind to the Force and doesn’t sense the man’s fear; he senses--

“Evening,” the man says, accent gone.

“I--” Kylo starts, surprised. “Do you know who I am?”

The man smiles then, and there’s something cruel in it. “She said you were a good boy, that you'd come. And you came.”

Kylo’s never wanted to choke a man more in his life. Instead, “She?”

“She’s been waiting for you,” a voice says from behind. A blonde woman with the insignia of Black Sun around her neck. “Shall we?” She offers her arm. “None of us like to keep her waiting long.”

Turning to look at her, he tries, “I’m not going anywhere,” but the man takes a sudden step closer to him, and Kylo feels the prick of something in his throat. He feels the drug hit the blood in his veins, feels the weakness start in his knees. Smells that sweet, drowsy sort of smell in the air. The Goodnight spice, he realizes in horror, and steps back. “You would _dare_ \--” he attempts to say before oblivion overtakes him.

*  
“Ben--” he hears. “Ben, wake up. Wake up right now,” he hears. “If you don’t wake up right now, I--” he hears. “Just wake up, please. Ben, please wake up.”

Befuddled, he feels small powerful hands grip him tight, shake him slightly. Those same hands touch his face, shifting it from side to side. A hand grasps at his own, squeezing tight.

Breathing in steadily, he can smell honeyed candles and taste iron in his mouth. Perhaps he bit his tongue as he-- and he remembers.

He sits up so fast that vertigo hits him hard. “Where am I, what is this?” he demands, dizzy, and turns to look at the only other person in this strange room. And it’s-- it’s--

It’s Rey. Her entire frame is trembling and there are tears in her eyes. His heart flips over and she fills his vision entirely. She’s in a simple Corellian dress, and there’s no lightsaber at her side. Her arms are bare. Nothing makes sense. “Rey?” he says, incredulous.

She sniffs, nods. “Why are we here? How did we _get_ here?” she asks.

“Here?” Kylo blinks and looks around. It’s a sizeable room-- a bedroom. Windowless. He’s on an opulent sort of four poster bed with silk sheets and a mural above depicting-- depicting--

He immediately looks away, realizing where they are.

“We’re in a brothel, Rey. Why are we in a brothel?”

She looks white as a sheet. “I woke up about ten minutes ago, lying next to you. I didn’t. I don’t-- What is this?”

He reaches for his saber and it’s gone. With shock, he realizes his clothes are new. Soft, grey things. Reasonable dress for someone visiting an establishment such as this. He hisses, a seething anger growing inside of him.

“Is this some kind of joke?” he says and gets to his feet, strides to the door and jiggles the handle to no effect. “Locked.” He could easily force it open, but he turns to face her instead. “What were you doing before you woke up here?”

She says: “I was following a lead on--”

“--on Nar Shaddaa?”

“--of course.”

“And you followed a--”

“--a blonde woman and a--”

“--a man with an accent?”

“Yes.”

They stop for a moment, stop and stare. Breathe together as one. “Following _what_ lead?” he says, sharply.

“That someone is impersonating me,” Rey says, defiant. Angry. “Trading obscene amounts of credits for Black Sun’s spice. What lead are _you_ following?”

He lifts his chin. “Same one,” he says. “Thought it would lead me to you.” The words come out of his mouth much softer than he intended.

Her eyes widen and cheeks turn the prettiest shade of pink. She watches him for some time before: “I’m unarmed,” she says, quiet.

“No Force user is unarmed,” he says, feeling quite breathless. He forces himself to look away, look away from her. His heart sighs from the absence.

“Does the First Order know you’re here?” The ask is delicate.

“I am the First Order.”

She huffs. “Will there be military intervention anytime soon?”

“No,” he says, petulant. “I came on my own.” He regrets it, leaving the might of his army without a trail of breadcrumbs. “And you?”

“They know where I am,” she says simply. “But I don’t expect a rescue.”

“We don’t need one,” he says, raising his chin. “It’s just us against a den of scum and villainy. We should make short work of them.”

She visibly shivers and without thinking, he takes several steps closer to her. Close to-- what? What was his plan, he thinks. To comfort? That’s-- that’s just --

“I’m scared,” she says. “There’s so much we don’t know.”

He tilts his head to the side, curious at this. Curious at her fear. He leans in. “You’re the bravest person I know.” There’s a shadow of something in her expression; a fleeting, strange thing he sees before--

She’s in his space, looking up at him. “You think I’m brave?”

“Yes,” he says softly, disquieted by her closeness. He can feel the heat of her body.

“Oh, Ben,” she whispers and it’s startling how her mouth is close enough to--

Something’s off, he thinks, and that’s when he reaches out, feeling her with the Force to better understand her intentions. And he feels-- he feels-- It’s like the coldest blast of wind; a deep, unsettling shock. Something is wrong about her. Completely and utterly wrong.

She’s wrong.

She’s-- She’s--

This isn’t Rey.

He steps away. “I’m such a fool,” he says softly. “I never thought to--” There’s a hiccup to swallow and he straightens up directly. Crosses his arms. “We’ve not been introduced,” he says, coldly. “And you can stop calling me Ben.”

Slowly, a smile grows on her face; and it’s cruel. So cruel. “And you can call me the Commander.” He watches as subtle things about her change; her expression, the way she holds herself, the position of her feet. All similar but different from the Rey he knows. There’s something hard about her, something dark.

He hears Snoke’s words in his mind’s eye: _gullible, thoughtless, weak--_ “Why am I here?”

She chuckles, turns away from him. Gestures her hand with a dramatic flourish. “I’m bored.” Simply stated.

“You’re--”

She turns back, looking hungry. “And you are _so_ much fun, especially here, in this scrumptious galaxy. Supreme Leader? Snoke’s apprentice? Son of a cursed dynasty? You must be great at parties.”

“Look here--”

“No, _you_ look here,” she says, stalking towards him like a predator to her prey. “You’re my guest for the time being and the more you struggle, the more delighted I’ll be. Spice trading when you have unlimited credits is about as dull as you can imagine, and I need a little pleasure.” Her frame is against his, something soft and pliant. And she leans in, rising up on her tiptoes. “And pleasure is something I know you can provide.” Before he knows what’s happening, her lips crash against his.

He gasps out, his mouth opening and she deepens the kiss immediately; wraps her arms around him. He feels caught, exposed and-- it’s-- it’s the first time he’s ever been kissed and it’s--

“No,” he says against her mouth and she makes a quiet shushing noise, almost the sound of a purr. She’s wrong, everything’s wrong. “No--” he tries again, and she’s lessening her hold on him only to grip his face in her hands, pull him close to her. He feels frozen, trapped. She kisses him slowly now, more judiciously. Kisses him like Rey might kiss--

“No,” he says again, weaker this time.

“You’re not a good boy, are you?” she whispers. “Why don’t you show me how bad you can be?”

It hits a chord. His eyes close and he succumbs for the moment; letting her in. Having a taste of what-- what it might be like to-- And she’s good, she’s so deliciously good at this. His arms, once solid at his side, reach around her, pull her close to him. The touch of her is so soft and her body is-- it’s so warm.

It’s only for a moment, he thinks, with some resolve. I can stop this, I can--

Then she makes such a sweet whimpering noise and his hands clutch at her harder. The sound of it stirs him in more ways than one. His dick hardens and she chuckles low, her thigh pressed hard against it. It’s exhilarating; the pressure, the opportunity. There’s such thin, soft cloth between them. It would be so easy--

Sucking in air and shaking his head, he remembers himself. Remembers this is a lie.

The palm of her hand presses against his cheek and the images seep into his brain, a broadcast of her thoughts. Images of her on her knees, that sweet mouth stretched over his dick. Images of her lying against the pillows, her legs spread wide and her eyes dark with desire. Immediately he’s thinking of what it would feel like to press in, fill her up. Get deep inside of her and--

She grinds against him and now its him with a whimper in his mouth. “I know you want it,” she whispers against his lips, and the gravel in her voice is unfamiliar. “And I don’t care if you think about her the entire time.” It’s-- it’s-- too much.

Pulling away, he pushes her hard to the ground. The straps of her dress are now askew, her left shoulder bare and the swell of her breast peeking out from the almost sheer cloth. She sits there, laughing up at him. It’s not a nice laugh.

He wobbles on his feet, unsure about anything except a longing for the actual Rey. A longing that he feels in his sinews and bone; deeply rooted in the darkest reaches of his heart.

And without warning, there’s a dull silence in his ear; the first time he’s felt it in a year. And there she is, Rey, standing three feet away from him. Startled and pale-faced.

He can tell the connection is fleeting as Rey goes in and out of focus. He quickly moves three steps forward as she walks three steps back. She says something “oh” shaped and he can see her ferocity grow in her expression. Her hands are in tight fists. “What do you want,” she says roughly. And it’s Rey, it’s his Rey.

“Nar Shaddaa,” he says. “Help me,” he gasps out. “I need you--” and the connection fizzles and breaks.

“What was that?” the woman on the floor asks with a curious tone. She gets to her feet, adjusting her dress and looking from him to the space where Rey was standing; empty air to her moments ago and empty air now. “Was that her? Can you two _do_ that?” Her eyes are wide, her lips in a half smile.

“That was nothing,” he says. “And don’t ever kiss me again.”

“Mmm.” She grips the air and he feels himself pulled towards her, as if chained. “Soon,” she says, laughing, “You’ll learn to appreciate me.”


	3. Chapter 3

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**THREE**

|||||||

 

Rey looks out of the window at the moon below, and the planet further beyond. Nar Shaddaa, the notorious “Smuggler’s Moon,” is tidally locked to Nal Hutta. Half of the moon looks on the damaged planet at all times while the other half faces the deep space of the Outer Rim. The twisted dark and the transcendent light, united and divided. It’s a curious place, and a dangerous one.

She sits in her chair with her arms around her knees, listening to Poe and Jessika lie and lie and lie to security and border patrol and customs. They’re posing as mercenaries looking for jobs and a good time. Somehow, again, Poe and Finn are posing as lovers, and she wonders when that will come to its natural conclusion. Rose is wearing the cape this time as their pirate queen; her hair in a tight, unforgiving bun and her makeup outlandish.

Fiddling with her armor, Rey is under a helmet again. If there is truly an imposter, she needs to keep as hidden as possible until they get to the bottom of this mystery.

And she--

And she also gets to the bottom of something else.

Kylo Ren and his plea.

When she caught that enigmatic glimpse of him, he was white as a sheet and she could feel his discomfort, his fear-- the mighty Supreme Leader brought low.

She makes a face, unseen. The others don’t know about this, about him as she remains unwilling to tell them about the connection, once strong and now fledgling without Snoke to bind them together.

Life was so much easier with him as a looming distant figure, not a very real person who very likely needs her help. Life was so much easier when he was the cold hearted villain and she the--

She breathes in slowly. The only thing crystal clear is her mission to find him. Her eyes close as she considers this. Considers what she will say and how she will act if and when she sees him again. Sees him whole and alive and possibly in peril.

Considers how she’d much rather have him alive than dead, for whatever that’s worth.

*  
Calrissian’s contact stands erect at the foot of their ship’s gangplank, a holo tablet in her hands and a smile on her face. “Welcome to Nar Shaddaa,” she says. “May your stay be profitable and your every pleasure be met.”

With an unnatural ease, the woman fixes them up with rooms and lines of credit and what little intel she has. She’s affiliated with the crime syndicate, Crimson Dawn, so they’re extra cautious. Polite. Use their aliases. It would be no good to show their neck, nevermind let such an insidious force know the rebel’s champion is in arm’s reach.

“So, you want the boss,” she says. “The spice runner who’s newly ruling over Black Sun’s operations.” And she chuckles. “He told me this, of course, and I told him, of course, that it’s impossible to get an audience.” She takes a moment before: “But he says you kids were made for impossible missions.”

Rey feels all of them sit up a little straighter.

“Now,” their contact says, “Black Sun has all the credits these days, so it takes a certain charm to make a splash.” And she leans in. “To get to the big boss, you have to get to Kolle. She’s number two now.”

Leia’s told Rey about the Black Sun operative, though Rey is pretty sure the general left a few things out.

The woman continues, now looking rather pointedly at Jessika: “And to get to Kolle, it’ll take a certain pair of legs and a generous smile.”

Jessika shrugs. “I signed on for anything.”

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” Rose says.

*  
Decisions are made to enter the fray in the next day or so, and Rey considers her secondary mission. Considers what their contact could know.

Holding her aside, she asks, voice scrambled: “What do you hear about the First Order?”

The woman stares at her as if she could see beyond metal and leathers to the face behind the mask. “Only that their Supreme Leader is on a sabbatical of some sort,” the woman replies. “Not to be unexpected. The Force works in mysterious ways.” She chuckles. “ _You_ ’d know better than me.”

Rey freezes but the woman smiles, something genuine. “Lando wouldn’t have contacted me if I wasn’t true, if _she_ \--” she says before closing her mouth, looking away. “Still,” she finally adds: “You tell him that after this, Mistress Qi’ra’s debt is paid.”

There’s little Rey knows of Crimson Dawn or its leadership.

There’s little Rey knows of Calrissian, the general’s spy, and now even less.

*  
They’re in close quarters in their rooms, too close, and Rey struggles with it after years of solitary living in her makeshift home. And she struggles with feeling so separate from them because-- it’s all because she can’t tell them about Kylo, she can’t--

She breathes in and feels lightheaded. Feels a headache she can’t shake.

*  
He said: “You’re not alone.”

And she-- she had believed him.

*  
The Betsy is nearly full when they arrive in full costume; Jessika in front, looking like a Hutt’s treasured pleasure girl. Heads turn, and eyebrows raise. Still, rather quickly they’re ignored. Credits buy drinks and information that Kolle may show up tonight.

They find a table and a masked Rey stands as a sentinel behind Jessika, and she focuses through the Force for any hint of her mysterious double. And of him.

A lot is said about local politics and galaxy-wide celebrities. A lot is said about how quiet the First Order has been of late. A lot is said about spice moving fast, faster than ever. Nothing about--

Rey sees the blonde hair first, then the watchful eyes and lovely face. A remarkable figure. Black Sun insignia. No bodyguard, but muscle enough in her arm to be formidable. Kolle, in the flesh.

Jessika gets to her feet, stretches like a Loth cat. Turns to Rey with a wicked smile on her face. “I have an idea, but I’ll need your help,” she says, and Rey doesn’t need the Force to feel her mischief.

With a simpering smile on her face, Jessika heads alone to the ‘fresher, which is incidentally just a few feet beyond where Kolle has sat. There’s a sweetness in the rise and fall of Jessika’s hips as she walks and Rey reinforces it with the wave of suggestion as Jessika passes the Black Sun operative.

Rey watches as Kolle blinks, puts down her drink, and follows with careful steps.

The Force, Rey thinks, Rey _knows_ , is a dangerous tool. But nothing is as effective as a pretty girl.

It’s some time before Jessika emerges, pink faced and proud. A saunter in her hips. She sits too close to Poe and says: “Flygirls take risks,” and takes the drink out of his hands, drains it dry.

*  
What she got was a name. Not “Commander,” but: “Rey.”

More than enough.

*  
In their rooms, they spend some time arguing about the concept of a Rey imposter; what is her purpose, what is her origin, what _is_ she. It’s after several drinks that Rose offers: “There’s a theory about mirror universes.”

“What?” Jessika says, intrigued.

Rose smiles and pours another round. “It’s a fairytale, and it would be some trick to connect them, but people say--”

Finn interrupts. “People _know_ that there are infinite universes compared to ours. Where one thing or many things are different. Parallel lives; intimately close and yet utterly apart from ours.”

“People know?” Poe asks.

And there’s a strange sort of smile on Finn’s lips. “I cleaned the offices of a man on Starkiller who was singularly focused on this. I learned a little.”

Jessika opens her mouth: “Is there a universe where I’m--”

“--Yes,” Finn answers and Jessika’s eyes widen.

“I was going to say--”

“The best pilot in the galaxy?” Poe says, grinning.

She hits him on the shoulder. “Please, that’s the universe we already live in.”

Rey pipes up: “It would be some trick to connect them, you said. What if there’s a universe where the powers that be figured out how to do it? And connected with ours with some kind of door or a gate. What if--”

“What if the imposter _is_ really you, just a mirror version?” Poe says. “Double the trouble.”

“Sounds fun,” Finn says.

“Sounds dangerous,” Rose says.

“Sounds like a lead,” Rey says.

*  
It’s a dream, a terrible one; she’s got her hands around Kylo’s neck, her thumbs pushing against the soft flesh of his throat. He’s beneath her, writhing against her but unable to escape. She holds him there, holds him tight and leans in close. “I killed you like this before, Ben,” she says. Her fingers will leave bruises. “I watched you die under me. My hands like this,” and she squeezes tighter. “I could do it again, love. So easily.”

He spits out: “She’ll kill you.”

“Mmm,” she says. “Will you, Rey?” she says. And suddenly, Rey is the voyeur, not the woman who has clambered on top of Kylo Ren, put her hands around his neck, and choked him to a point that his face is pale.

The woman is leather clad, three buns in her hair, and her smile is cruel.

Rey summons her lightsaber, bares it bravely over the woman’s head. An honest threat.

“He doesn’t deserve your fealty, Rey,” the woman says. “I do.”

And the tables turn, as they do often in dreams, and Rey has her hands around the woman’s throat. The woman who looks just like her.

“You’re fun,” the mirror says. “I’m going to enjoy you.”

“Is this a dream?” Rey ponders aloud. The woman’s neck feels warm and alive underneath her hands.

The mirror laughs, a gentle sort of sound that resonates in the room, fills it up and seems to ring in Rey’s ear until she can hardly stand it; the cacophony, the agony of it.

Then the sound changes. Becomes a chuckle that haunts her, a chuckle she’ll never forget. A sound of amused mirth; Snoke’s laugh.

She wakes in a cold sweat, with a gasping “no” on her lips.

*  
After breakfast, she excuses herself. Moves to their makeshift bedroom. Alone, she sits cross legged and puts her hands on her knees.

The hour is desperate, she thinks, and digs as deep as she can into the Force; feeling it around her as it binds the universe together. She sinks down as far as she can go, into the rock and sand and clay beneath thousands of feet of cityscape. She sinks down to feel the imbalance of this poisoned moon and its occupants. She sinks down deep enough to feel the shudder of its axis unable to turn. She sinks there and begins the slowest reach outward from one solitary position; a searching beacon.

And she will do this until she finds him.

*  
It’s an echo, she feels first. Echo isn’t the right word. It’s hard to discern what it is. But it reminds her of the sea cave on Ahch-To-- all those copies of her for miles and miles. Yet, then, they all had the same purpose. This-- this-- _echo_ seems dissonant. Seems wrong. She’ll breathe in and the echo will breathe out; she can feel the echo smile as she frowns. If she snapped her fingers, the echo would--

And shadowing it is anger; anger and despair. An incredibly familiar cascade of such emotions. Rey’s eyes open wide, wide enough to hurt. She shoots to her feet. She’s found them; both. Together.

Her beating heart is not quite able to comprehend, to process this knowledge. She’s unclear about how to feel. She’s very clear on what to do.

The rooms are empty, so she scribbles a hasty note after cramming her mouth full of ration bars and drinking some water. She feels the tinges of regret, leaving the others, but this is her responsibility.

Her alias’ armor and helmet are where she left them for she leaves their rooms as the Jedi she’s trained to be.

It’s done, she’s doing this.

*  
With a determined pace, she finds herself deep in Black Sun territory, just past the Betsy, when a man bumps into her. Apologizes profusely and then looks up, looks at her face and gapes. “Commander!” he says. “I didn’t expect you ‘til half past.” And he looks at her with the most expectant and servile expression.

She steels herself, breathes in. Playacting isn’t her strong suit, but she’s just playing herself, if the dark version of herself. And she can’t lose this lead.

Rey saw a lot of the worst possible types on Jakku; the haughty, entitled bosses who demanded such fawning attention. This shouldn’t be too-- “I am most displeased with your lack of progress,” she hisses and he cowers enough for her to press in further. “Take me immediately to the gate,” she demands, hoping she chose the right word. “I have business there.”

“The gate?” he echoes.

“I’m tired of waiting,” she says and looks at her nails. “Do I need to ask twice?”

He blinks and seems to regard her as if seeing her for the first time. But then: “As you wish,” he says and gestures to someone behind her. Rey turns and Kolle’s face fills her vision, those sharp and knowing eyes.

“Commander,” Kolle says softly, “How pleased we are to serve you today.”

Rey narrows her eyes, struggling to keep the ruse up but reinforcing everything with a sensation of true power. “You’re stalling me.”

The woman makes an apologetic gesture. “It’s just-- your prisoner is asking for you.”

With a swallow, Rey considers her duelling missions. Considers her options. “Well. I do like the look of him when he begs,” she says, and one of her hands becomes a fist to keep from wincing.

“Commander?” Kolle says.

“Let’s go.”

*  
The man waits until Kolle and the Jedi girl are out of earshot. He hits his coms. “We have her.”


	4. Chapter 4

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**FOUR**

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She keeps him in the room where he woke up. She keeps him well fed and well dressed with all sorts of comforts. She keeps him with a trio of lizard-shaped creatures calmly chewing leaves in the corner.

These creatures have the tendency to keep him up at night; noisy beasts. They’re also, he thinks, responsible for the Force being _gone_. It’s like they’ve created a bubble that surrounds him, insulates him from the Force. A truly astonishing experience, new and horrible for him. Such creatures _shouldn’t exist_ , he thinks, and yet. Here he is, without the Force as his ally.

Now, he could try for it; he could use his fists and his feet and his teeth. But he knows enough about this strange woman that she would throw him to the ground regardless of any tactic he used. She may not be stronger than he is, but she’s significantly more clever.

Besides, he now has an ache of hope festering in his heart.

He thinks back to earlier, earlier when she took him in binders to see the gate. To witness the technological marvel she and her team had produced. To witness the union of her mirrored universe with his. To watch mountains of spice transfer to its new home under the watchful eyes of guards and techs from both sides of the gate. He stood there, silently watching this activity and considering the dangers of how this could escalate-- when something happened, something marvelous. When the touch of Rey’s thoughts briefly united against his own.

Rey is searching for him ( _for him!_ ). And he could feel the shock and awe of her delight in finding him at last.

He stares up at the ceiling in his makeshift prison of soft sheets and fine goods, curious at this feeling, this _hope_. Hope lingers inside of him, hope of rescue. Hope of seeing her again.

*  
He wakes up from a nap to find her in his room, lazily sitting in her usual chair cradled by her cape and drinking a deep blood-red wine, the bottle on the table behind her. “Dream of me, my love?” the Commander says and he sighs, crosses his arms and ignores her. Picks himself up and starts his exercise regime to clear out the cobwebs and keep him limber for a fight.

He ignores how her eyes follow his every move.

By the time he’s breaking a sweat, she says, “Should we spar?”

Carefully watching her expression, and desperate for the Force to help him understand her, Kylo nods cautiously in agreement.

Wood swords are procured easily, as if she knew he’d say yes, and they set about it. There’s a part of him that wants to go hard, to show her his true mettle; but he knows better now. Knows to keep some things to himself.

His lips press together in a thin line, and he remembers the taste of her. He thinks: once she takes something from you, she never gives it back.

Her three steps forward are his three steps backward; she’s excellent at this game too. A thoughtful fighter with limited brute force. She doesn’t need it, she’s a master. All the scavenger trained out of her; tried and true. He ends up on his back almost immediately.

How different she is from Rey, he thinks. And yet, how easily Rey cut him down without a lick of training.

“Tell me about her, Ben,” she says, looming over him with her cape flowing behind her. A powerful presence.

“About who?” he says, petulant.

“You know who,” and she bats her eyes. “The Jakku scavenger, the rebel champion. The Jedi girl who killed Snoke.”

All too fast and slipping out of him carelessly: “I killed Snoke.” He shouldn’t have said it; his position is predicated on a convenient falsehood. His jaw clenches immediately.

“Really?” she says. “My informants were misinformed, apparently.” She pauses. “ _You_ killed him? That must have been some trick.”

“Believe me, it was.”

She offers her hand and he accepts it, allows her to help him up. And then she waits for him to steady himself and raise his weapon. Faster than he can account for, she strikes and strikes and strikes at him as he blocks, desperate for an opening to strike back. Her proficiency at the sword reminds him of holos of Kenobi; such skill, such speed. He’s impressed.

“She’s fought you twice and survived, so you must go easy on her -- like you’re going easy on me now. Or she’s bested you and shown you mercy. What a wonderful girl.”

“She’s--”

“I want to know everything about her. How she dresses, how she talks, how she fights.” She laughs. “How she makes you go weak at the knees.”

“Excuse me?”

“Oh, Ben,” she intones sweetly.

He slams his weapon against hers. Pushes in. “Ben Solo is dead,” he says vehemently.

She leans in. “I can see a lot of him in you right now.”

He breathes in. “You killed him, didn’t you?”

“With my hands,” she says, not smiling but her eyes are so bright.

“You’ll not get the same chance again,” he says.

She’s close. So close. “My hands are far better at other things, Ben. All you have to do is ask.”

He sucks in air. The cognitive dissonance is destabilizing. Rey, his Rey would never-- And yet, with the tension in his muscle, the twinge of desire in his--

Kylo’s a little tempted; the exertion and the escalation are almost more than he can tolerate, more than he can bear. It’s near impossible to be faced with _her face_ and an incendiary conversation. It’s near impossible to be faced with the opportunity to--

He breathes in. He’s not interested in lies. He’s not interested in liars.

“I do have questions,” he says, take a step back and his sword at his side. “Why spice? You could take anything in this galaxy, I believe you could. You could even bring in an invading force. Why go after something as banal as spice?”

She smiles, wide and sunny. “Imagine if you lived in a galaxy without caf. What would you do to find a supply of it?”

He tilts his head, incredulous. “Caf is--”

“--Now imagine if you don’t have spice. It’s all run out; the good, the bad, the unspeakable varieties. Imagine how it would destabilize the criminal population and thereby… the whole galaxy.” She shrugs. “I like things stable.”

“How magnanimous of you.”

She flourishes her cape and then makes a curtsy, elegant. “I live to serve.”

The words come easily to her mouth; she’s said them before and meant them. She’s no one puppet, but it’s the first time he considers: she has a master, yet unseen. Which means she must have an agenda untold.

“If you served me instead, I’d make it worth your while,” he offers.

With an amused gasp, she takes a step closer to him. “You’re offering me a job?”

“I am the ultimate power in this galaxy,” he says, without guile.

She laughs in his face. “You Skywalkers are the same everywhere, you know,” and she slams the hilt of her weapon against his forehead, violently knocking him down. “I have a gift for you,” she says, walking towards a rich curtain covering the wall.

He’s too dazed to say anything.

“Or is it perhaps,” she says to herself, “a gift for me?”

She rips the curtain aside to show a small room behind it. To show Rey, bound and gagged and wide-eyed.

It’s like all the air in the room is gone, sucked out into space, and he can’t breathe-- he can’t-- She’s there, she’s been there for _how long_ , and she’s-- she’s-- His mind is erratic, a chaotic place, until rage, pure rage, takes root and even without the Force, he feels powerful. Rising to his feet, he hisses: “Cut her bonds at once.”

The Commander watches him, pure glee on her face. “Is she not your enemy?” she says. “The last Jedi your galaxy has spat out and rebel scum as well? Wouldn’t you like to see her dead?”

It’s fast, it’s too fast, the word coming out of his mouth and he can’t take it back once it is said: “No.” He’s looking at her, looking into Rey’s eyes, and his heart beats in double time.

There’s a laugh that starts low and builds. “As if you could kill such a girl,” and the Commander pivots, her back to Kylo, and she touches Rey’s face. “As if I would ever let you.” Carefully, she loosens the gag, and pulls it away from Rey’s mouth. “Hello, pretty,” she says and grips Rey’s chin. “I’ve been dying to get my hands on you.” And with that, Kylo sees her swiftly and surely press her mouth to Rey’s. A welcoming kiss. Rey seems frozen in place at this strange intimacy, neither moving nor responding. His hands are fists, discomfort making his skin tingle.

The Commander pulls away with a broad grin, and puts her hands on her hips. “I do hope there is more of that in our future, I’m ever so good at--”

“Why are you here?” Rey says, cutting through the bullshit so fast that it takes Kylo’s breath away.

There’s a moment before the Commander opens her mouth: “Running spice isn’t a good enough answer for you?”

Rey looks defiant, struggles a little against her bonds. “No. I want answers, real ones.”

“I can see why you’re in love with her, Ben,” the Commander says, and both Kylo and Rey flinch at the words. Rage seethes inside of him and he can see Rey’s mouth tighten. “I’m in love with her myself.” The Commander runs her finger along Rey’s cheek. “Been leaving all kinds of breadcrumbs for you. Sweet Kolle, those delicious Hutts, taking the him off the board--” and she looks coquettishly at Kylo.

He swallows, realizing he isn’t her endgame: Rey is.

“What do you want with her?” he says quietly, miserable again to be without the Force; an ally in understanding and power.

“That’s need to know.”

“I need to know,” Rey says.

The smile on the Commander’s face is chilling. “Shall I whisper it in your ear? Sweet nothings and dark truths?”

“Untie me and tell me straight,” Rey hisses. “And whatever you’ve done to the Force, I want it to stop.”

“My ysalamiri are such good pets,” she says, turning to the cages in the corner. Her arms behind her back. “I was surprised to learn your galaxy doesn’t know of their existence, or rather, their special ability to ward off the Force.” She turns back to look at them. “Apologies, my loves.”

Kylo’s taken this time to get closer to Rey, to reach her chair. He looks down briefly to see her look up at him, her jaw set and her eyes sharp. This-- this was not how he expected to face her after the _Supremacy_ , after Crait. There’s something soft inside of him that he hates, but she’s Rey, his Rey, and he--

“Go ahead.” The Commander shrugs. “I’d like to see if she’s as good with her hands as I am,” she says meaningfully.

Getting to his knees, he fights with her bonds until they loosen. “I can get you out of here,” he says quietly, without even a concept of a plan or a strategy or a--

Rey gets to her feet and walks straight up to the Commander and slams her fist into her face. Hard enough to bruise.

Kylo remains on his knees, surprised.

“Such spunk,” the Commander says, spitting and rising to her full height. The words are said in such a fashion that both Kylo and Rey shiver in memory. And with a whine: “But I want us to be friends.”

“Then tell me everything,” Rey demands. “Tell me _why_.”

The Commander stands still, terribly so, and her eyes narrow. “My galaxy needs you, Rey. We’re in the middle of --”

“--Tell me an honest answer,” Rey interrupts. Kylo flinches from the harshness of her request.

“You want truth, scavenger?” she says, mockingly. “I could tell you about your parents. They’re my parents too. I could tell you a lot about them. I know you dream about them. How could they love you and leave you--”

“I’m not interested--” Rey says, fists so tight, “--in the past. You want me for some future. I want to know what that looks like.”

The Commander raises her chin. “Get used to disappointment.”

“I’m already there,” she shoots back and advances, one solid step at a time. A very real threat.

Without warning, there’s a syringe between them, shining in the light. “I want to talk, Rey, I don’t want to do _this_ ,” the Commander says. It must have come from her pocket and it means nothing good.

“No,” he says, smelling that sweet, drowsy sort of smell in the air. The Goodnight. Kylo leaps in between them. “Answer her questions.”

The Commander grabs him by the collar and swings him around, now his back is against her front, her syringe at his neck. “If I press too hard, it’s an overdose and he’s out for good. Out forever,” she says. “Sweet Ben, you wouldn't want this for him.”

Rey breathes in sharply. “He’s nothing to me,” she spits. “Do it.”

Kylo’s eyes widen a little.

The syringe plunges into his neck, a horrible prick, but nothing comes out of it. It’s an empty threat.

“The girl I’ve heard so much about,” the Commander says, almost dreamily. “I’m--”

Rey grabs the wine bottle off the table and hurls it at the Commander’s face. It makes contact, shattering, and glass shards hit Kylo’s skin as he falls away from her twisted embrace, the syringe still in his neck.

“Quick,” Rey says, and Kylo, not understanding, flails. Rey reaches for the syringe, and rips it from him, and plunges it in the stunned Commander. Pushes in, half a dose, but enough to drop a Hutt.

“Tell him--” the Commander says before dropping to her knees. “--I did--” she says, and crashes fully to the floor, out.

Rey lets out a sob at that moment, momentarily vulnerable before rising to her full height. “You’re wounded,” she says, and runs to the refresher. He touches his face, and it’s bleeding. Eyes wet, she comes back with towels and gently administers to his face, brushing the glass and wine off his clothes. Nothing is too deep, it only stings, but he leans into her ministrations; soothed by the act and the _quiet_.

“What--” he attempts before she immediately interrupts-

“Help me,” she says roughly. “I’m going to get into her clothes.”

“Why--”

“Something, someone is behind this. I don’t think she’s acting alone. We need--” and she hesitates before: “I need to walk in her shoes.”

His head tilts. “Can--” he pauses. “Can you?” he says, curious. Worried.

“You believed me,” she says, her voice gravel. “When I said you were nothing.”

Staring at her, he considers this truth, and the meaning behind it. He swallows and nods.

Then the most awkward activity occurs. They carefully undress the Commander down to her knickers and breast band. It’s horribly uncomfortable and Kylo tries to keep his breathing steady. Rey strips downs like it’s nothing, like he isn’t even there, and puts everything on, and they redress the Commander in what Rey was wearing. It takes entirely too long and he can see her hands are shaking.

She attempts to pin on the Commander’s cape when he stops her, takes her hands and holds them warm in his. A kindness; strange. Then he pins on the cape, looking her in the eyes the whole time. She looks up at him, breathing in slowly, and he would do anything for the Force right now. Anything to have even a glimpse of her thoughts.

And there’s a violent knock at the door. They both jump.

Her face goes pink and she looks like she’s about to do something incredibly brave. Or incredibly stupid. “Look,” she says. “I’m really sorry about this. Really. Please forgive me.”

“For what--” he starts before she has grabbed his collar and dragged his face to hers. She takes a breath before--

Her lips press hard against his.

Tongue against his mouth, she demands entry and, while startled, confused, he can’t deny her this. She deepens the kiss and he’s helpless against her; the overwhelming touch and taste of her. He breathes her in and can’t believe what’s happening. Can’t understand--

“Commander,” the man without the accent says, appearing in the doorway. “You were--”

She licks the inside of his mouth twice over, a lingering sort of kiss that makes standing still on two feet difficult. It’s different, it’s so different than the Commander’s kiss. One was destabilizing, and this-- this is threatening his entire world. “Mmm,” she hums before disengaging. Stares at the man in the door.

“Can I,” she says, “help you?”

“We thought--”

“See, that’s your problem. _You thought_. I’m obviously busy, get out.” And it’s perfect, the words, the tone, the stance. Kylo’s lost in it. Lost further when she begins to tear at his shirt, forcing it off of him.

He’s tangled in his shirt but can tell the man is still present.

“Look,” Rey says, almost shrill. “I don’t mind if you watch but close the door. I feel a draft.”

The door closes, gently, gentle, and Rey’s got her hands on Kylo’s bare skin. His shirt in a pool on the floor. The man’s gone.

Her hands are warm.

He’s breathing heavily, his thoughts in chaos. “Now, what do we do?” he gasps out.

Rey’s expression is determined; her eyes focused and her mouth in a semi-smile. “Now, we fight back.”


	5. Chapter 5

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**FIVE**

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She sits on the table, feeling strange and uncomfortable in the Commander’s gear; all black leather and high boots and a flowing cape. Feeling awkward and vexed after tasting the inside of Kylo Ren’s mouth.

“We have to shut this down,” she says. “And to do so, we need to shut down the--”

“--gate,” Kylo says, seemingly catching on. “Destroy the gate so they can’t--”

“Shut down the gate on their side,” she interrupts. “We don’t have the access, and they must.”

He blinks. “Gates shut people out or-- or they keep people in. Rey, what if it’s a one way trip? There’s so much we don’t know--”

“Someone is behind this and it’s about more than spice,” she says.

Kylo adds, a touch sardonic: “More than disrupting the criminal organizations of our galaxy and targeting the two sides of a war?”

Rey makes a frustrated noise. “I just don’t know what, and I can’t _sense_ anything with those damn creatures. Going there might bring us clarity.”

“Might get us dead.”

She huffs. And then something fond in her heart stutters to life. He sounded just like-- just like Han when he said those words. She lifts her chin. “Are you afraid?”

He stares at her a long time before, “We need our lightsabers, and if we’re going to shut down the gate, we should take her with us.” He gestures to the Commander. “Pretend she’s you on our way.”

“And pretend that you’ve had a change of heart, coming home with me as my prize,” she says, thinking aloud before stopping to consider what she said.

Kylo stares at her, his face inscrutable.

“I may have to--” and she hesitates, “--act like you’re mine again.”

“Ah,” is all he says.

There’s a series of images that flood her brain-- of kissing him again, of his bare skin against hers, of the sound of his sighs against her lips. Demonstrable intimacy, the thought of her dominating him. It’s not something she’s given much thought to before, but the concept is taking root, much to her surprise. Shaking her head, she focuses on the problems at hand.

“I have an idea.”

*  
In a state of undress, she opens the door and calls out a lazy “hello” until someone appears. “Take him to my chambers, I need him gone while I tend to my other guest.”

“Bound?” he asks, eying Kylo cautiously.

“He’s a good boy, and will be a good boy ‘til I get there,” she says soothingly.

“To hear is to obey,” the lackey says, and gestures for Kylo to follow him.

And now all she has to do is wait.

*  
After some time, the door swings open and Kylo stalks in, wearing strange smuggler’s clothing with his lightsaber on his belt. Rey gives him a small smile, staring at his get up but doesn’t say anything aloud.

Kylo shifts uncomfortably. Waves awkwardly at her leathers. “You don’t look yourself either,” he says without much prompting.

“That’s the point,” she says. Then, gesturing at him: “And I didn’t say that this is a bad look for you.”

He can’t quite focus on her as he replies, “Neither did I.”

She’s not quite sure how she feels about it; all of it. Not quite sure how she feels about working with him on a similar mission, with a similar purpose.

Carefully, careful, his eyes lift and he gazes at her. Then he shows her that her lightsaber is also connected to his belt.

“She kept everything in her room, as you surmised,” he says, quiet. “Let’s go.” He walks towards the Commander, and moves to pick her up when Rey says:

“Kylo.” It’s a warning.

He sighs. Unhooks her lightsaber and tosses it to her.

She watches him then gently lift the Commander in the air, holding her like a bridegroom with his bride. Almost a cradle. She wonders what the Commander put him through, and if he succumbed at all to her-- to her desires. The little spark of jealousy is a tell that she promptly ignores.

“Let’s go.”

*  
After several steps away from the room, she can feel the Force flowing through her again. Tears spring to her eyes and she almost sways. It’s a delicious feeling, overwhelming and fulfilling. He turns around to check on her and when their eyes meet, she feels him again. Feels Ben Solo, the boy, and Kylo Ren, the man; the strange confused dichotomy of his dreadful darkness and his ache for the light. And mixed in there, _in there_ is a longing for--

She straightens. Pulls back. She doesn’t want to know.

*  
Five techs look up when they walk through the door of the old laboratory, and she eyes the nebulous space in the middle of the room. It’s hard to look at, an uncanny glimmer. A rip in the galaxy.

She opens her mouth, desperately hoping she’s not about to completely wreck this plan. “I’m taking my new friends to meet him,” she says. “Prepare the gate and announce our arrival.”

One tech stands. “We didn’t expect--”

“--plans change,” she shoots back. “And you don’t want to keep me waiting, do you?”

The tech shrugs. “The gate is still at one hundred percent. You can walk right through and tell them yourself.” He looks away, busy with some blinking device.

Rey’s eyes narrow and she reaches out her hand. Takes a breath. And constricts the tech’s windpipe. “Your insolence is not appreciated,” she says. She swallows and her hand becomes a fist. He nearly gags, choking so hard. It’s horrible, this whole experience is horrible, and made worse as she hears Kylo suck in air in an audible gasp.

“Apologies, Commander,” the man attempts.

She’s hurting him, she’s doing this, and she’s not stopping. “Show me your colors again, show me your true mettle.” She tightens her fist and something dark and sweet flows through her.

“Please.”

It’s awful, how easy it would be to twist her fingers and his neck would snap. So easy.

Another moment and she lets him go. He slumps noisily to the ground, and she lets out the most devastating laugh. Her skin is crawling and she hears buzzing in her ears. But she holds up her head high. She doesn’t want to, but she has to look at Kylo, look him in the eye and see him stare back at her in wonder, his mouth gaping wide.

“Follow me,” she says.

And with that, she takes several steps forward. Looks at the strange shimmer. It distorts the light from the room in front of her, but she can’t see through it. Steadying herself, she sticks her foot into it. Steps onto a firm surface she can’t see. Her leg pushes forward, and sucking in air, she sticks the rest of her body in through the gate.

She sees a blinding light for a split second before seeing a hundred techs busily working in the same room, just brightly lit and smelling like antiseptic cleaner. Looking behind her, she sees the shimmer and her heart skips a beat.

In moments, Kylo emerges out of it, carrying the Commander in his arms, and looks shaken but whole.

The techs see her and whispers begin but they stick to their stations. One who looks managerial approaches. “Ma’am,” the tech says, walking up to her. “How may I assist you today?”

Rey steadies herself. “Walk with me.” And the tech smiles, blithely, and they head out the door into the hallway. “I’ve got what I came for, and I’m tired of this game,” Rey says as they walk. “I have other duties, other needs and this-- this operation needs to come to a close.” The tech nods and nods as they walk.

“We can shut it down at any point, ma’am, but we’ll need his orders to do so.”

“Of course we need _his_ orders,” Rey hisses, “I can’t make any decisions without his permission, what a tiresome old bat he is.” And she holds her breath.

They’re alone in a hallway, Kylo several steps behind them. “You’re not her,” the tech says quietly.

“I--”

“She would never-- not about him.” The tech shakes her head. “You’re from the other side. You’re the girl she was searching for.” She tilts her head to the side. “I thought something was different about you, and she’d never bring that one,” and she gestures to Kylo, “here.”

Rey’s fist opens, and she considers how quickly she could ignite her lightsaber.

The tech smiles. “I’ll help you. You want to close the gate? We can do that. But I want to go back with you.”

“You want--” and Rey swallows. “Deal.” And she opens up to the Force, trying to sense this woman’s intentions and all she feels is a brittle bitterness and a desire for escape.

“You don’t know where your rooms are. I’ll take you there and we can further discuss.”

Kylo clears his throat, “How can we trust you?”

“Ben,” she says lightly. “It’s good to see you.” And her eyes lower to the Commander in his arms. “Her master killed my sister for small, petty reasons and I couldn’t do anything about it.” She touches a necklace around her neck, a metal pendant. “So trust me, trust my rage.”

“What’s your name?” Rey asks, quiet.

“Tico. Paige Tico.”

*  
In the Commander’s suite, they discuss for an hour; debating the hows and the whats. Rey tries to keep focused, sitting in the intimate privacy of her double and seeing the tell tale signs that they’re more similar in tastes than she’s comfortable. Desert flowers, paintings that please her eyes, furnishings she would buy if she had the credits. She swallows. Uneasy at this familiarity.

Paige watches her. “You’re very different from her,” she says suddenly. “You haven’t interrupted me once.” And they both chuckle.

Rey calls for food and drink, and they sup together. That’s when Paige tells them about more about Snoke, the Supreme Leader of this galaxy.

“It’s recent, his dominion. Skywalker led us for decades. Cruel, he was. Kept the systems in line, kept expanding his territory. His sister was worse,” and she looks apologetically to Kylo. “His right hand. Tightening her fist with every passing day.”

Kylo quietly says: “Was?”

“The family was eradicated. She--” and Paige hesitates. “--The Commander was thorough.”

“Was I--” Kylo says, breathes in. “What was your Ben Solo like?”

“He was a good man, a brave man. He lead a resistance until he was seduced,” Paige says carefully, and Rey is certain she’s being delicate for a reason. “I’m sure you know what happened next.”

Rey shudders, hates this knowledge. Hates this universe. “What do they want with me?” Rey asks.

Paige shrugs. “I don’t know, but I imagine it’s nothing good.”

*  
After Paige leaves, Rey checks on the Commander, locked in the closet and now in a Force coma of Kylo’s doing. Heartbeat still strong.

She considers the facts; she considers the vast power, or cunning, a person must have to defeat more than one Skywalker. She considers what this implies about herself, about the power she herself has.

Shaking her head, she returns to the room to find Kylo staring at the bed and fidgeting with his hands.

He turns. “Our luck is going to run out,” he says.

“I don’t believe in luck,” she says evenly. “The Force works in--”

“--mysterious ways, I know.” He turns to look at her. “Things could go sideways tomorrow. And no one, no one in our galaxy knows we’re here. We’re alone.”

“We’re together,” she says too fast and suddenly her cheeks are hot. He blinks, and she senses his stance is unsteady now. This is--

No, she thinks.

Rey tightens her jaw. “She was right though. I am your enemy.”

“You’re not,” he says and takes a step forward.

She raises a hand. “You sent your hounds after me the last time,” she says. “And I’m not coming with--”

“You kissed me,” he says, almost too loud and his eye twitches. Curious, she opens up to the Force and she can sense his regret; a regret of bringing it up. But the man is no coward. “You kissed me and--”

“It worked,” she shoots back. “It was a ruse and it meant nothing.”

“Not to me,” he says. She holds her breath as something deep inside of her aches; a longing emerging out of the darkest reaches of her heart. With all her might, she attempts to dampen it, silence it.

And something unexpected, something _sour_ moves in. A dark sensation. She says: “I’m sure _she_ kissed you, I’m sure she--”

“She did, and she tried,” he interrupts. “Often.”

“Tried?” The singe of rage alights her skin, if only for a moment. “But you never--”

“She wasn’t you,” he admits and it’s a shock; the words, their meaning. He’s getting closer now, inches away from her. She could touch him so easily now. “She wasn’t you,” he repeats, so close.

Rey looks up at him, up at his face and the strange look in his eyes. His hand touches her neck, his thumb at her chin tilting her face up a little higher. The touch is electric and she feels watery in her knees and something tightens between her legs. She swallows, unsure. “Are you--”

And he leans in and presses his lips gently against hers. A light pressure only. He lingers there a moment and pulls away. “Tell me you don’t feel the same way,” he whispers.

There’s an “I don’t” rising out of her, but when her mouth opens, she says: “I don’t want to lie to you.”

He sighs out, a puff of air once held tight, and his eyes turn so soft before-- before-- he--

Rey’s been kissed before, an awkward kiss and tumble with a fellow scavenger on Jakku. She knows how it goes; the scrape of teeth against lips, the swipe of the tongue. The touch of a man against her skin. It wasn’t her favorite, it wasn’t something she really enjoyed. A smuggler was next, followed by a rations distributor. After that, she didn’t have a curiosity for it. Glad to know how it was done, and that it wasn’t of interest, really.

But she remembers kissing Kylo in that room; the heat of it, the press of her body against his. The softness of his mouth, the ease in which he opened up for her. It was different, it felt _different_.

And she’s lost when his lips now meet hers and they seemingly kiss for the first time. He’s a novice but he learns what she likes almost immediately. She can taste his desire, feel it in the air, sense the hardness of him against her. Overwhelming; his drive to have her.

She feels dizzy, slightly unhinged. Before, it was all a game. It was playacting, it was a farce.

This is-- this is real. This is both of them entwined in a dangerous dance. And the more she kisses him, the more tangible the connection. The more inevitable the entanglement.

There’s a consequence in desires well met, she thinks. If they do this, something will irrevocably change between them. Something--

He licks into her mouth and she realizes: she doesn’t care.

There’s something delicious in the taste of him; something she is insatiable for. He whimpers at the intensity of her kiss, gasping when he can, but she doesn’t let up. Doesn’t give him much room. This is something she wants to last, wants to remember.

He pulls away eventually, his lips swollen and his cheeks pink and his eyes unfocused. He pulls away and she can feel him open up to her through the Force, wide open. He’s thinking of her, only her. Of the way her eyebrow raises, the curve of her neck, the swell of her breast, the twist of her hands, the power of her stance, the length of her leg. The softness of her hair. He’s catalogued it all from every strange encounter they’ve had, he’s memorized them. She feels wanted, desired.

This is-- this is new for her to feel the same way. To feel this way about him.

Her eyes close as she fully comes to a conclusion. In all this-- this _madness_ , she-- she is certain of one thing. Certain that she will take him apart, piece by piece. Remake him, weak as he is for her, into her ally for all time. When they reach for each other next, it will be him that takes her hand.

There’s some awkward time, movement, and effort to get her mirror’s black leathers off her while Kylo easily slips out of his smuggler’s gear. She’s caught up in zippers when he approaches her, all skin and muscle and bone, and bats her hands out of the way. Unzips her and runs his fingers along her bare skin. The touch is like a live wire charge. She turns and she grips his shoulder to pull him down for another kiss.

Skin against skin, the heat of him pressed against her. She’s the one gasping now, feeling his hands touch her hip and just beneath her breast. Holding her close to him. The sensation is just too much and he’s not even--

“Get on the bed,” she whispers against his lips. “Or, I swear, I’ll drag you to the floor.”

His eyes open wide, but when he moves, he draws her with him. Her hand so tight in his. As his gaze is fixed on the bed, she allows herself to stare. To do a catalogue herself of his curves and edges, his smooth skin and ridged scars. Scars she’s given him. This thing, whatever this is, this-- this was born in violence. Resolve fuels her; she wants him under her, his voice a hoarse whisper.

As they reach the bed, he turns and she looks up at him. Her hand grips his hip, a steadying touch. His eyelids flutter. Where there is inexperience, there is also eagerness. She doesn’t quite smile. “On your back.”

In moments, she’s on all fours, crawling over him. She could make this fast, she really could. It could all be over in a few minutes. Or--

“Kiss me,” she says, and carefully lowers herself so that her sex is against his. He groans, but his hands reach for her. His kisses are so sweet now, a pleading sort of thing as he helplessly ruts up against her. “Shhh,” she says in between kisses until his hips become still.

Feeling impulsive, she adjusts their position, her on her side facing him. She takes his hand and guides it between her legs, presses his fingers against her clit. Her eyes roll back as she removes her hand, lets him explore. She’s-- she’s never had anyone touch her like this. Touch her like she touches herself in the dark watches of the night. His pressure is firm and he’s a quick learner, listening to her gasps and the soft noises in her throat.

It’s like a flood, the feeling and the physical. His fingers are so wet now. He slides further, slips a finger into her and she watches him as his mouth becomes “oh” shaped, and his eyes become so dark. “I want to taste you,” he says and she blinks. This is not-- this is not something she knows, but--

“Alright,” she says, opening her legs a little wider and accommodating him as he moves down. She looks up at the ceiling. There’s a painting on it; a beautiful piece of work. Swirls of paint in light and dark shades. _She_ must have spent many nights looking up at it, probably not alone. The thought makes her squirm a little, uncomfortable to be in someone else’s bed but then Kylo’s tongue touches her and she can’t think of much else.

This is new, this is unusual, and this is the best she’s ever felt. His mouth is on her, exploring her sex with his tongue, and she’s losing her mind. Her vision blurs and every inch of her skin burns. Before she knows it, her hand is tangled in his hair and her hips are bucking against him. His hands keep her thighs apart in a vise-like grip and she is in agony. Overwhelmed; drowning in desire.

Coming like this is strange; so different from the usual surge of pleasure from her own fingers. The climax builds, from a spark to a raging fire. And right as she thinks she can’t take anymore, he shifts and his fingers return, fucking into her as she’s coming. The crescendo of overstimulation is more than she can bear, and she cries out as her orgasm finishes with an aching intensity.

When she breathes, she can only hear a weak sound, and it makes her laugh.

“Get up here,” she says, feeling breathless. And even more so when he looms over her, lowering himself on top of her. His mouth presses gently against hers and she tastes herself on his lips. “That was-- unexpected,” she says and he smiles. As she tilts her head to the side, her hand snakes down to get a handle on his dick and that smile immediately vanishes.

He’s very hard, and she swallows thinking about it. Thinking about him inside of her, filling her up.

That’s when she feels him shiver. The Supreme Leader of the galaxy, trembling against the rebel’s champion. “I’ve got you,” she says gently, pushing on his shoulder to flip him onto his back.

With a steadying breath, she straddles him again, and positions herself against his dick. This is truly the point of no return. He stares up at her, his eyes so dark and his mind open to her will. She wonders at him, at him laid bare beneath her. And something covetous melds with her own desire. So she sinks down on him, slowly. Taking him into her fully.

He arches his back, moans out something unintelligible and his hands reach for her hips, tugging her a little. “I can’t--” he says.

“You can,” she says, and begins to move in the most excruciatingly manner. Fucking him with the intent to drive him wild.

His head shakes back and forth and his eyes are so wide. “Please,” he says. “I need more,” he says.

She adds to the intensity of her movements but not by much. Her mind opens to him, curious. It’s a barrage of feeling that hits her as he opens up too, his desire and confusion and the _longing_ for her. What she means to him, the connection he covets more than anything. He’s picturing her fucking him from almost every position. He’s blinded by desire; weak for her.

But something stops her for a moment, puts a sudden hesitance in her. This is what _she_ wanted. _Am I much different?_ she thinks, wanting to wreck him completely. Wanting him never to forget her. Wanting to make him hers.

“Tell me what you want,” he says quietly. “I want--” and he stops. Repeats: “Tell me.”

She opens her mouth: “I want your fealty, Kylo,” she says, “I want your promise to be at my side.”

“I’m no rebel,” he says, gasping for air.

“That’s not what I’m asking.” She looks at him.

With a surprising energy, he flips them over, and he thrusts in once. She gasps out from the shock of it. “You want me to be yours?” he says, and thrusts again. “Is that it?”

“Yes,” she says, and bucks her hips against his, urging him on. Her eyes, a fire.

“I was yours since the day I met you,” he says and he kisses her with a sudden wildness. Hard to keep up with him, the clash of tongue and teeth and lips. It’s madness; delicious madness.

They roll to the side, and then she’s on top of him again; her mouth full of kisses and gasps. Her fingers dig into his hips as she adjusts, and begins to ride him in earnest. Fucking him without a drop of mercy.

Beneath her, he writhes and his mouth is open, eyes wide. She can tell it’s too much for him; her pressure, her rhythm, her pace. She could slow and make it simple, but she’s done toying with him. Ready for him to lose himself utterly in her.

She senses it before he freezes slightly. Then he pulsates inside of her as he groans out, his delirious relief palpable. With her hands on his shoulders now, she watches him revive, blink his eyes and catch his breath. Whimper slightly as she rocks back and forth a little, his softening dick still inside of her.

In a hoarse whisper: “I’m yours.”

Her own relief surges and she nods her head. “Yes. Yes, you are.”

*  
A com beeps incessantly at the door, waking her from a light sleep. Naked, she lifts herself up and out of his embrace, walks to the door and hits the button to listen to the message. She hears a prattling series of statements in droid speak and Rey swallows. Looks up at Kylo and hopes her face doesn’t betray the abject terror wracking through her.

“It’s Snoke. He’s here.”


	6. Chapter 6

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**SIX**

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They dress as quickly as possible. Kylo finds himself back in his smuggler’s costume. Finds himself a little amused to see Rey shimmying into the simplest outfit she could find in the Commander’s closet; tight and low cut, but not leather. And no cape.

She looks up at him, a little pink cheeked. “Her heartbeat and lungs are still strong,” she says, speaking of the Commander, still prone on the closet floor.

He nods, and focuses in on what’s next. It should be truths, not fears, that drive them. “We’ve killed him before, we can can kill him again,” he says.

“We don’t know anything about this Snoke--”

“--we hardly knew anything about ours,” he says.

She turns and looks at him, her expression curious. “He was your--”

“He was not an open book,” he replies neatly. He looks away, masking, as best he can, the darker feelings he has from her. Snoke meant _everything_ to him once, before--

“This one wants you and will do anything to have you,” he says. “And he’ll do everything he can to make you want him back.” His lips press together and he fights the urge to tremble. He breathes in slowly before: “But this Snoke doesn’t want me. I’m expendable in this conversation.”

“Not to me,” she says. When he turns to face her, he sees how fierce she looks, how determined. Something thuds in his heart. She continues: “If he makes a move against you, I won’t--” and, impulsively, aching for connection, Kylo interrupts her with a kiss. He holds her face in his hands as he gently presses his lips against hers.

Her arms wrap around his frame as she deepens the kiss, allowing him in. She tastes so sweet. He wants nothing but to lay her out on the bed again, ravish her if he can. But there’s no time, no opportunity. Still, he kisses with intent; a lingering sort of kiss that doesn’t seem to have an ending. She leans into him, her skin so warm against his and he--

\--and he senses something like decay, like death and destruction; a quiet sort of rage and a devious touch of delight. There’s a presence approaching and it’s intimately familiar.

“Rey,” he says, pulling away, and she looks at him with wide eyes.

“It’s him,” she says.

“Yes.”

She looks so defiant that he thinks she’ll light her saber and wait for him at the door. Instead, she grabs his collar, pulls him down for the swiftest of kisses and marches to the door. Swings it open.

“Snoke,” she bellows. “I’ve come to bargain.”

He thinks: _What the--_

The man comes into view, wearing simple grey clothes and looking--

Looking well. Looking handsome, even.

This is a Snoke without blemish, without injury, without a crushing cranial wound. This is an alien in a massive humanoid shape, wearing plain clothes and looking like a gentleman of small means making an earnest living. This is a man who is whole. And alone without guards. A sign of good will, or something sinister? Kylo’s hair on his neck raises. He does not know how to deal with such a creature.

“Rey," Snoke says, purring the name like it's the most beautiful name in existence. He reaches for her hand, takes it in his and kisses her knuckles gently. "No games, I see. No artifice pretending to be my Hand. Just you,” he says. He breathes in. “How I’ve been longing to meet you.”

Rey snaps her hand away. “I was never going to fool you. Why try?”

Snoke laughs, that familiar chuckle. Kylo used to be so familiar with it, unfazed by it. But now, hearing the sound again, bile rises in his throat. It’s not quite hate that he feels. It’s a bitterness, sharp and unforgiving.

The chuckle continues as Snoke says: "She told me that you killed me once."

Kylo sees Rey’s stance weaken for a moment, wills her to uphold the lie about their Snoke’s death. The Commander wouldn’t have corrected this falsehood in time.

“ _She_ died well,” Rey lies, a deflection. “I assume that was according to plan.”

“That you, dearheart, would destroy my Hand? I considered it.” He moves to the room’s table and chairs, adjusts a chair to serve as a throne and sits on it easily. “I considered a great many things.”

Kylo keeps back a smile; if he reached out, Snoke could sense a weak Force signature in the closet, but why would he? When his prize lived and breathed a step away from him? Snoke, in either universe, has his blind spots.

“What do you want from me?” Rey says, her voice low.

“I want him,” he says, gesturing mildly to Kylo. “A corrupt Skywalker is always a delight, I have a place for him in--”

“Stop lying. If you wanted him, he’d have been here weeks ago and your Hand would be alive. What do you want _from me_?” Rey repeats, a blunt force.

Snoke stares at her, his gaze seemingly trapping her; fixing her in place. It’s a long moment before: “You have the most dark side potential of anyone I’ve ever known,” he says and Kylo knows that the words are honest, the words are truths. “More than the Commander, more than this boy. More than me.” He breathes in. “I felt you through the cosmos before we even discovered how to rip through space. The perfect daughter.”

Kylo watches as she takes a step back.

“My study of you is limited, surely I haven’t gotten it all right. But I know what I felt, what I feel right now in this room. You could ignite the stars.”

“I don't understand. She's me--” Rey pauses, “She was me. How could--”

“My dear, Rey of this galaxy cared nothing for true power. Just her base wishes.” He glances with contempt at Kylo before his gaze returns, focused on Rey. “Oh, she was a valiant servant; devout. We crushed a dynasty together, not to mention our every enemy.” He breathes in, as if reliving it. “But you-- you have raw, untamed power.”

Kylo flinches at the familiar words, said to him often. Making him feel special. His hand becomes a fist. “She’ll never--” he starts.

“I accept,” Rey says, simple words.

Red hot knives seem to cut through his heart. “--What--” he tries.

“But I have terms.” Her voice rings out, clear. “As I said, I’ve come to bargain.”

Snoke raises an eyebrow, leans back in his chair. “You want him alive.”

“You want him dead.”

There’s a cold shiver that starts in his neck and runs down his entire spine. It’s like he’s not present, it’s like he’s not there. It’s like he’s a pawn, a child. He’s felt this before, years ago. He disliked it then, and he doesn’t like it now.

“And,” Rey continues, “I want the gate closed forever. Deal with your spice problem, destabilize some other universe. Cut mine off.”

“Done,” Snoke says, and lifts his finger. Kylo feels his throat constrict and his entire body presses hard against the closet door. “You didn’t specify which side of the divide he lives in. I say he goes home.”

“I agree,” she says, her eyes fixed on Snoke.

“He’s newly your lover, I can smell it in the air. You’d let him go that easily?” he says. That chuckle again.

Rey sniffs, the sound of derision. “I’ll survive. He’s no better than the Commander. No heart, no vision,” she says. And she turns, looks at Kylo with a haughty expression. “He did _wake me up_ though. A welcome distraction.”

There’s a rage that’s been building all this while and her comment seems to jumpstart a confused fury but as Rey continues to gaze at him, her eyes change. It’s a meaningful sort of look, one he’s seen before in Snoke’s throne room. Something simpler, something safer than communication through the Force. And he understands.

He understands too well. “I don’t think--” he starts because this plan is doomed to fail, this plan will result in more complication--

“I don’t care what you think,” Rey says, too sharp but her eyes, her eyes plead.

He breathes in slowly. It’s not what he likes, _trusting_ , but she’s never been anything but honest. Never been anything but true. He becomes one with the Force, and hopes she can--

She pivots, turning back to Snoke and her hands are behind her back. “I’ve been without a teacher all my life,” she says. “Master Skywalker gave me three lessons but no lasting wisdom. What is it that you offer?”

“What is it that you want?” he says, eager and leaning in; a sunflower reaching to the sun.

“I want to know,” she says, “my place in all of this.” The words are heavy against Kylo’s heart, and he knows she’s not playacting in this very moment.

So he focuses, focuses harder on the task at hand, at _waking, informing_ \--

“They call you the rebel’s champion--” Snoke starts.

“--and I spend most of my days in engine grease or piloting a garbage trash bucket,” Rey interrupts. “I’m no princess. I don’t come from a great dynasty. I’m no one, I’m nothing.”

Kylo flinches as if burnt and Snoke’s mouth opens but she continues.

“You said I have considerable power. I’d like to learn how to use it. But I need guidance.”

“Dearheart--” Snoke begins.

“--Be my father,” she says, with the slightest lilt in her voice. Getting close, so close. “Be who I’ve been waiting for.”

There’s a suck of air in the room; Snoke and Kylo, alike, stunned by her words.

That’s when Kylo feels Snoke’s grip on his neck, grip against his limbs lighten. It’s what he needed and he projects the last of the information through the Force as hard as he can and hears a growl in response.

That’s when Kylo opens the closet door and the Commander stands behind it, filling the air with her fury. She looks from Rey to Snoke, and her hatred is palpable. A terrible rage. “You lying snake, you Rothbart scum,” she says. “I was yours, I was always yours and you’d supplant me with some cheap _copy_?” Her voice is shrill and the rooms seems to vibrate with her anger.

Snoke looks from Rey to Kylo to the Commander and his eyes narrow. “I--” and the Commander calls for Rey’s saber, snapping it out of her hands and igniting it as it sails through the air. “ _Rey_ ,” he says, warmly now. Getting to his feet. “You’re--”

“I knew you wanted her but not like this. Not like this,” she says, and she raises the saber high.

Rey plants herself between the Commander and Snoke. Reaches out and Kylo’s saber is in her hands in seconds. She ignites it with a fierce snap-hiss. “You’re not needed here, _Commander_. Make a move, and I’ll actually kill you this time.”

There’s a shriek of laughter. “As if you could, _scavenger_.” And she whirls into motion and strikes hard at Rey, who viciously blocks. The electric sound resonates through the room.

They clash and Kylo watches, frozen. Not sure what to to do. This is-- this _must_ be a farce. Waking the Commander was Rey’s idea-- so he watches, waits.

While Rey’s style is brutal, the Commander’s style is elegant. Like Kenobi often did-- and like his apprentice, she uses Djem So. A combat characterized by power attacks and defense immediately followed by a counterstrike. He’s used the form himself. Snoke taught him; he--he must have taught her as well.

Perhaps, he thinks, the Commander is in many ways a mirror of himself. He swallows, considering.

They’re not pulling punches. The dance of limbs and lights escalates. Mirrored faces, strangely matched. Easy to tell them apart, but still--

“When this is over,” the Commander says, “I’m going to have your lover on the floor. I’ll leave you alive just enough to hear him come under me. And then I’m going to--”

Rey cuts in. “Do you ever tire of killing Skywalkers?”

The Commander stops, and the feral grin on her face is real. “Never.”

Snoke lets out a chuckle and everyone ignores it as Rey strikes and strikes and strikes again. A remarkable strength in her arm. A quickness in her feet. Helpful for someone not formally trained against someone of the Commander’s skill.

Kylo feels the tendrils of the dark side seeping into her blood and bone, whispering promises of victory and salvation. Rey’s eyes are wide and her chin is tight. He trembles watching her, knowing she could bring the ceiling down on them all if she clenched her fist tight enough.

The Commander throws a look his direction, and he stands up straighter, narrows his eyes. Readies himself before--

“Did you love him?” Rey spits out.

There’s a huff before the Commander says, “Ben?”

And Rey smiles, cruel. “Snoke.”

It’s very real, it’s astonishingly real as the Commander stops still in her tracks, gasping for air. “I--”

“I know,” Rey says. “He was all you had.”

The Commander takes three steps forward, and Rey takes three steps back. “You don’t understand.”

“I understand he had you on a short leash,” Rey says, her left foot behind her right, now poised to strike. “Wouldn’t it be better if you were free?” She tilts her head to the side, waits.

Some of the defiance in the Commander’s eyes seems muted. Kylo knows that look. “I’ll never be free of him.”

“Let’s see about that,” Rey says, turning around and swiping the lightsaber up so fast that Kylo’s mouth gapes open.

Kylo hadn’t noticed, gods, hadn’t even noticed that the Commander was pushing Rey closer and closer to where Snoke stood. So close, too close--

Rey lowers the lightsaber to her side, lifts her chin. Staring at the man in front of her. There’s a moment, a long moment, where Snoke is wide eyed with the smallest of smiles on his face.

And then-- terribly, most terribly, his body slides apart, two pieces in different directions. Sliced from pelvis to head.

All they can hear is the horrible crash of his body to the floor. And then the Commander’s laughter starts low and raises to a rich chuckle. Very different from Snoke; the expression of mirth with a true warmth behind it. Still, Kylo shivers from the sound. Truly frightened by her.

“The king is dead,” the Commander says, seeming to enjoy every syllable of each word.

Rey breathes in, staring at her handiwork before she says, just loud enough to hear: “Long live the queen.” And then, she pivots, turns to look at her mirror. Her lightsaber still live. “Are we going to have a problem?”

The Commander silences her saber, looks at it admiringly. Then, she hurls it at Rey, who neatly catches it. “No,” she says. “We are not.” She stretches like a Loth cat, rolls her head from side to side. “I quite enjoyed that little game.”

Kylo takes a step towards her, his hands in fists, distrusting. A person cannot be molded by Snoke and simply laugh off his death. There’s damage there, too much to process.

He would know.

“Game’s over now,” he says, a darkness in his voice.

Turning to face him, she looks up with an amused expression. “I don’t know about that,” she says. “I’d like to play with you a little longer.” Then, chuckling: “Waking me was a good idea, yours?”

“Hers,” he says, watching her.

“Of course,” she replies. “Now, what was I saying about having you on the floor--”

Rey clears her throat as Kylo takes a step back. “Here’s the deal. We’re going home now. And we’re going to pretend like this galaxy doesn’t exist.” She hooks both lightsabers to her belt. “We’d appreciate the same forgetfulness from you.” It’s not quite a threat.

The Commander breathes in, her gaze appraising. “Wouldn’t you rather stay? Stay with me? We could have a lot of fun.” She turns to Kylo. “Your father is alive in this galaxy. He misses you _something awful_.”

Kylo tightens his jaw. It’s compelling. A proper seduction. There are still thorns around how he feels about Han Solo, ones he’ll never lose. Rey approaches him, takes his hand in hers and squeezes tight. He can sense her empathy through the Force, and her resolve.

“And your parents, my parents,” the Commander says, her eyes wild. “Wouldn’t you like to meet them? Mother is a particular delight, you’ll see.”

He hears Rey breathe in sharply through her nose, and he squeezes her hand back. “We’re good,” he says with a resolve of his own.

“We’re good,” Rey echoes. “Take us to the gate.”

*  
Paige is waiting for them at the laboratory door, her face anxious, but she takes a quick step backward at the appearance of the Commander.

“It’s okay,” Rey says gently. “Really, it’s fine.”

Incredulity passes over Paige’s face but then she shrugs. “As long as I’m still part of the deal--”

“You are,” Rey says, and then turns to the Commander. “She’s with us.”

The Commander looks her up and down, curious but without recognition. “Very pretty. Consider it a parting gift, love.” She then looks at him, her gaze hungry.

“I need your word--” he starts when the Commander grabs his collar and pulls him down to face her properly.

“Dream of me,” she says and presses her lips firmly against his. He freezes, his mouth shut and his hands fisting. She pulls away. “I’ll dream of you,” and he senses her regret. Senses a sadnesses behind that bravado, a certain loneliness. He’s knows she earned it.

“You too,” she says, turning to Rey.

Rey lifts her hand in front of her. “I’m quite okay, thank you,” she says, but the Commander wraps her in a warm embrace, her mouth at Rey’s ear.

“Be me when you return, be me for a while,” Kylo hears her whisper. “Black Sun is more powerful than you can imagine, and I wouldn’t make them an enemy until I could cripple them.” She pauses. “There are more than enough credits in my room, you’ll be able to find them. Though,” and she shrugs, “Kolle can be bought with the sweetness of your kiss.”

There’s a frown on Rey’s face but she nods. “And do I have your word--” Rey says and the Commander smiles.

“I have a galaxy of my own now, why would I care about yours?” She chuckles. “I promise.” And she grips Rey’s chin. Pushes in close. “I promise,” she echoes.

Rey breathes in, seems to think about it. She closes the distance and kisses her mirror with the faintest of pressure, lips against lips. Lingers. And then, she pulls away to say something so quietly that Kylo can’t hear it, but he sees, he senses the Commander relax.

It’s then that Kylo considers how strange this adventure has been.

There’s a renewed strength to Rey as she pulls away, moves to stand with him. The Commander gestures casually to the strange shimmer in the middle of the room. “Now, my loves, it’s time you left.”

*  
Kylo goes last, a step behind Paige, and immediately hears the sound of a scream as he emerges through the gate.

The tech she attacked last time is on the ground, flailing from pain. “Your services are no longer required,” he hears Rey saying, her fist in the air. “Get your things,” she says, looking pointedly at the others. “This little enterprise is over.” She chuckles. Kylo isn’t sure how feels about it, her tone so familiar to the Commander. “But I hope you don’t mind me staying here a little while longer.”

And with that the shimmer in the air shudders violently before blazing with a bright light. A shrieking noise fills the room, and then the gate disappears completely. The techs stare at it, the _absence_ of it, dumbfounded.

Shut down from the other end, he thinks. And hopefully forever.

“Dearheart?” he hears Rey say, and she throws him his lightsaber. “The controls.”

“Of course,” he says, lighting it and stalking towards them. In moments, he’s made a mess of the equipment, desks, chairs. He hasn’t done that in a while, and it makes him almost breathless.

Through the Force, he can feel Paige shudder at it all, but the woman keeps her arms crossed, standing behind Rey like a bodyguard. “Ask for Kolle,” she says quietly. Rey raises her eyebrows and opens her mouth.

“This is my organization now,” Rey says to the room. Kylo notes that there’s no need for her to reinforce the words with the Force; everyone looks at her with deference. Ready to answer her needs at a moment’s notice.

He leans back on his heels, watches Rey with new eyes.

 

|||||||

 

Rose looks out the window, up at the the smog overhead masking the stars. Soon she’ll be out there, in the black of it. Away from this awful place and its awful denizens and awful smells. She hums quietly and her fingers absently touch the pedant around her neck.

They’ve come up with nothing. Worst of all, Rey’s gone; missing or dead or worse. They’re not quite sure. Her note didn’t say much and there’s not even been a hint of her despite their desperate searching. The general needs their return; an attack on the First Order is imminent and she can’t do it without them. A replacement team is present, studying Finn’s notes and asking stupid questions. Poe’s pacing like a madman and Jessika is cleaning her gun for a second time.

There’s a knock at the door, in the rhythm Poe taught them and Finn leaps out of the bedroom, plaintively saying the word “Rey.” He fusses with the door locks, panicked, and Rose gets to her feet while Jessika trains another gun at the door. Just in case.

The door swings open to reveal someone, not Rey, but--

“Paige?” Poe says, incredulous.

Rose’s hand raises to her mouth to cut off a gasp and her heart clenches so hard.

She’s dressed like a Black Sun operative and her cool expression wavers the moment she sees Rose’s face, but Paige focuses in on Poe.

“We hear your rebellion is in need of ships,” she says.

 

|||||||

 

The rebel’s strike against the First Order, at their very doorstep, is surprisingly successful. Not a death knell, but quite effective in re-establishing the war after a year of licking their wounds.

The First Order finds themselves with a blow to their pride, the decimation of their dreadnaught fleet, and a missing Supreme Leader.

Black Sun wins an impressive amount of money in Canto Bight about the battle. The celebration begins at the top and spirals all the way down to the lowest of operatives; all pledging full allegiance to their new leader.


	7. Chapter 7

|||||||

**AN EPILOGUE**

|||||||

 

It’s been a year, a year of this. Being her.

A year of running an organization while simultaneously setting it up for ruin. Running an organization that cannot always side with the rebels; sometimes having to give the First Order the intelligence it requests. Running an organization with a reputation of doing unspeakable things. Running an organization while having the reputation herself of doing unspeakable things. Running an organization in uncomfortable clothes and floor length capes and a penchant for spice.

She remembers her words: _Black Sun is more powerful than you can imagine, and I wouldn’t make them an enemy until I could cripple them._ And she’s seen first hand that the Commander was right. Black Sun has been a blight on the galaxy for hundreds of years; bigger and bolder than any of the competition. And if she’s ever to return to the rebels, be their champion again, she must break its back.

If she hates her mirror for putting her in this position, it only helps fuel her purpose. _You have the most dark side potential of anyone I’ve ever known_ , he said. And she’s only beginning to understand what she can do. Her life is so many shades of grey now.

Sometimes her hands shake, but then: his hand so often covers hers. And she knows she’s not alone in this.

He is disguised as much as possible, often under a helmet. His hair short and his face bearded; kohl covering his eyes. A touch of black market surgery to mask his scar better-- but not completely; she likes looking at it, at her handiwork.

He serves openly as her bodyguard, with the occasional whisper in her ear. To safekeep his identity, he wears a blaster; his lightsaber locked in her quarters. She, of course, wears hers.

She openly calls him many endearments, as well as many base words rudely said. His shoulders will bunch sometimes and his eyes narrow, but she’s the master now and he knows it.

There is a certain mischief in being undercover.

Kolle suspects, of course. Rey puts pressure on the woman’s weakness; keeps her distracted with a position of power and with beautiful women.

Her other operatives don’t ask questions, their pockets so flush with credits. Their future so seemingly bright.

Neither does Leia, who never sees him in their private holo talks, but must feel his presence across the stars. When this is over, Rey thinks, there will be quite a discussion.

*  
The general allows for it; something brief but something needed. Rey is more than grateful.

“Hey, you,” Finn says, a vision in blue and white holo. His lips rise into the most beautiful smile. Rey’s heart is so full.

“I want to know,” she says, “everything.”

*  
“Do you--” she says, her fingers running across Kylo’s skin. She lowers her mouth and kisses his collarbone. “--miss who you were?”

“Do you?” is the quiet response.

She had told Finn: _it’s not quite a loss of self, it’s a discovery_.

“This is-- this has been--” And when she looks at him, his gaze is focused. Trained on her. Unwavering. Her heart thuds a little. “Enlightening.” She breathes out, troubled nevertheless. “Is it all a lie?”

“I’m not,” he says without hesitation. “We’re not.”

She stares at him, a long hard look, before she moves forward to kiss him. Kiss him until he whimpers under her. Kiss him until she’s on her back and his hands are on her hips, digging in against muscle and bone with intent. Kiss him until she can’t anymore, hoping that air can still reach her aching lungs.

“I want you,” she says, weak for him.

“Will you--” he says, his fingers nearing the soft and wet between her legs, “--when this is over? Would you still?”

Her hand snakes down to meet his wrist, clasp it roughly and push his hand further down to touch her properly. “I would. I will. I do,” she says.

*  
She’s at her desk reviewing the latest reports of the war and its impact on the Hutt’s spice trade when the holo platform beeps; an incoming transmission. “Kylo,” she says and she can hear him cover his face with his mask, hear the rustle of his cape as he steps behind her chair. A dark figure looming over her. She rolls her head from side to side, lets her lips curve into a semi smile, and presses a button.

In front of her, a form appears in full First Order regalia. A crisp holo image. There are numerous additions to his uniform since she saw him last, new stripes and pins; signs of promotions and such. She hears Kylo suck in breath at the sight of him but she gives her warmest, most endearing smile.

“Hux, dear,” she purrs. “It’s been an age.” She considers the strangeness that they’ve never met in person; probably for the better as Kylo would likely lop off his head.

“It’s taken me time and considerable resources to do so, but I have discovered a singular truth about you, madam.” Hux says in a clipped tone, his accented Basic ringing through the air. “You are a fraud.” He takes a breath. “You are the nobody scavenger from Jakku, the rebel’s champion. She who murdered Supreme Leader Snoke.” His lips become a thin line, and his eyes are watchful.

She gives a rich laugh, her smile so wide. “A pretty story from a very pretty boy.” She’s been playacting the Commander for a year; she’s unfazed. This is not the first time her identity has been called into question.

And this, this must be a shot in the dark from a desperate man; his beloved Order is gutted and essentially leaderless. He still has teeth, of course, but there is an inevitability.

Rey knows how desperate men operate; knows to apply herself, like fingers pressed against a bruise.

“I’m quite happy to inform you that--” she begins, her voice rich with condescension.

He interrupts. “And there’s more. You’re obviously holding some _thing_ of ours captive. Our intel points to you kidnapping the once Supreme Leader Ren on Nar Shaddaa and he’s been missing ever since.”

Rey leans back in her chair. “As if anyone could kidnap a Skywalker. For this long.”

“Very mysteriously following that disappearance, Black Sun has known more about the First Order than some of its Grand Moffs,” he says.

“You flatter me,” she says, looking at her nails. “But it is my job to know everything, darling. I can do that without your little lost princeling.”

Hux bristles. “You tricked him once, with your words and wiles. You’ll not trick me.”

Her laugh sparkles. “Oh, tell me then what you’ll do next. I’m dying to play out this little fantasy of yours.” She makes a shocked and terrified face. “Will this do? I can also show you my--”

“Madam,” he says, short. “I’m closing in on your location and will soon have you in my grasp. Caught in my net. I’m going to destroy you and the deleterious organization, Black Sun. All in one fell swoop.” He pauses before slowly saying: “Mark. My. Words.”

Rey rises to her feet. “Is that a promise?” she says, using her own voice now.

“Yes,” he spits.

She leans in and says: “Good.”

*  
Their exit plan was always in play. She considers this as she scrambles the Black Sun mainframe. She considers this as she pulls the fire alarm before setting a match to her office. She considers this as Kylo meets her at the door, his saber hooked to his belt and his lips curved in a smile.

When Hux strikes, Black Sun will be rubble with little chance of rebuilding.

*  
In the moments before she pushes the lever, launching them into lightspeed, far, far away from here, Star Destroyers appear in the space around her, the moon, and deep space. She looks at Kylo. “Last chance,” she says. “I’m sure they’d welcome you back with open arms.”

He chuckles low. “I’d rather face my mother.”

She looks out at the blackness of space and soon all they see is starlight.

 

**THE END**

**Author's Note:**

> This has been a labor of love for many months. I’m so pleased to have this opportunity to bring such a story to life. 
> 
> Please check out the marvelous fanart I commissioned for the piece and love on the artists; they’re incredibly talented!!  
> >[Reyl-hoe](http://liminal-zone.tumblr.com/post/178605791722/this-amazing-commission-for-my-rffa-fic); [Kiddohah](http://liminal-zone.tumblr.com/post/177567264752/a-stunning-commission-from-kiddohah-for-my-reylo); [Raygorartshit](http://liminal-zone.tumblr.com/post/175442860852/raygorartshit-whoops-i-kept-forgetting-to-post); and Byabeach (coming soon)
> 
> The story was very much inspired by [this stunning piece](http://liminal-zone.tumblr.com/post/172213575307/kiddohah-darkrey-rey-reylo-kyloren) by kiddohah. 
> 
> And now, for my heartfelt thanks:  
> >thank you to the rffa mods; particularly celia (crossingwinter) and mneme (bittersnake) for their review and support  
> >special thanks for trish47 and th_esaurus; I’d be lost without you two  
> >all my love to petragem and fickle_obsessions for support, ideas, and cheerleading  
> >many hearts to the RFFA discord  
> >thanks to C for an inviting atmosphere and delicious drinks for writing and inspiration  
> >please note that the fic opened with a canon quote from the graphic novel, Star Wars: Darth Maul (2017) #2  
> >i graciously give a very gracious nod to Swan Lake and Tchaikovsky’s stirring melodies  
> >olivia dunham and philippa georgiou, you know what you did!!!  
> >special <3s for Dvořák’s Song to the Moon: _Illuminate him far away, and tell him, tell him who is waiting for him! If his human soul is, in fact, dreaming of me, may the memory awaken him._


End file.
